by M. O. McLeod
26.
The South Side of Alexandria
It was too late. Santino saw the destruction for himself. Phantasm had transferred from person to victim, from victim to person in a matter of hours in the city of Alexandria, and there was nothing he could do to reverse the deaths or stop its movements.
Leon had found his brother when they went back to the house in south Alexandria to look for him. Stewart was face down, covered in blood, on his porch’s front step, a knife sticking out of the middle of his back. He’d been stabbed repeatedly in his sides and back, and Leon didn’t know by whom. All he knew was that his older brother was dead at the hands of someone who didn’t understand what a Phantom was. He could imagine his brother trying to fight the carnivorous urge as he was stabbed from behind.
All around them the streets were filled with people running in fear. Cars crashed, cyclists were pulled from their bikes and attacked, mopeds were trashed, and Phantoms continued to wreak havoc on the city. People barricaded themselves in their homes. The streets were trashed; fires were started, and put out by busted fire hydrants. Smut and ash coated the pavement, and smoke blotted out the sky. People who weren’t Phantoms took the city’s crisis as a time to gain and looted whatever they could.
Leon held his dead brother through the whole thing. Even when the police and RAID team came and tear-gassed the street, Leon held on to Stewart. Even when Stewart’s body grew cold and lifeless, Leon didn’t let go. Santino and Kosner had to pry his hands from Stewart’s torso and drag him away. Leon didn’t scream, and he didn’t cry. He only wanted to avenge his brother and tell him how sorry he was that he’d gotten him caught up in the crossfire between Phantoms and humans. He was so sorry.